A Maelstrom of Madmen, or The Legend of the Hunt for Spotted Dick
by Jack Spheniscidae Enterprises
Summary: Taking a break from his search for the Observatory, Edward Kenway is hired by the Assassins to pursue the dreaded pirate, Spotted Dick, and retrieve the treasure he hoards. But Edward's not the only hunter in pursuit, and soon finds himself caught up in a bloody free-for-all chase across the Caribbean.
1. In the Beginning

**Nassau, 1718**

"What… what have you done now, Kenway?" Benjamin Hornigold asked before cursing under his breath as he stepped up the steps to the unkempt tavern made lively with the sounds of moaning men clutching their sore sides as they writhed on the ground, doing his best to avoid the shattered glass of broken rum bottles. In spite of his efforts, he stepped direct center into one Redcoat's pile of puke. Like a vein had burst on his neck, Hornigold twitched before letting loose an untampered monsoon of curses from the heart. "Oh, for God's sake, you pissant sheep-fucker! You can't just assault the King's men carefree like this, not when the full force of the bloody navy is looming on the horizon!"

Sitting at the bar, Edward Kenway only smirked as the red-haired barmaid named Anne refilled his glass, amused by Benjamin Hornigold's irate antics as he started to stomp into the face of an unconscious redcoat until it was literally a red stain with mixed bits of white and pink on the wood.

"This oul prat is actually a friend of yer's, Kenway?" Anne asked as she set aside the bottle. A wounded redcoat, one of his eyes gouged out, weakly crawled over to them. Edward frowned and he reached for the bottle. "No offense, but 'e's got somethin' up his arse."

"Mummy… please… I want me mumm" The redcoat moaned through a mouth of broken teeth right before Edward smashed the bottle down on him, splitting his head to the bone.

"I know. But still watchin' 'ol Benjamin's a real laugh riot, innit?" Edward chuckled as he tossed the bottle over his shoulder, knocking out another redcoat who was creeping up on them. "King's men or not, they should've known better then to step up right in me face and bark insults about my _Jackdaw_. Just 'cos they arrived on a Man of War doesn't mean their ship's bigger than mine! Bloody overcompensation is what they're preaching! Hmm, I think Rackham's finally coming to…"

"I… I was so good… me, beat down the whole lot of 'em sods…" Rackham moaned as he rubbed the purple bump on his head. Right as the barfight started, Jack Rackham had thrown a punch at one of the redcoats who was less than a millimeter away from him, only to miss and hit himself, knocking himself out instantly and breaking all the bones in his right hand. "The King will remember…" Rackham muttered as he staggered uncontrollably, tripping over everything. "…this day as the day he almost caught Captain Calico Jack Rackhaaaaaaaaaaargh!" He tripped over the railing and as he landed, there was the sound of a cat yowling in angered pain, followed by the sound of claws entering flesh and summarily the symphony concluded with Rackham's screaming.

Joined by Charles Vane, Edward and Anne looked over the railing at the thrashing Rackham as he tried to pull the cat off of him while Benjamin Hornigold continued to rant in the background about seeing why Thatch decided to call the whole damn thing quits. All of them did their best to hold in the building laughter in their bodies.

"The only captain you'll ever be, you little half-wit, is captain of your own delusions!" Vane cackled as the barman tossed Edward a bottle. With his hidden blade, he uncorked it, and dumped the rum all over the bloodied and crying Rackham as the shrieking cat fled at the very instant of dampening fur.

"Care fer another drink, Captain Kenway? You are a fascinating man..." Anne asked as she leaned against the wood railing.

"Ah, I'd love to, but I'm afraid I must be getting back to my ship now. The hunt for my fortune continues." Edward said as he handed her a few gold coins and walked down the steps with Charles Vane. Behind them, Benjamin Hornigold's voice cracked and he keeled forward, choking desperately for air as he vomited over the edge onto Rackham.

"What a loudmouthed pillock." Charles Vane said dismissively as he looked back. "Doin' nothin' but moanin' every chance he gets 'bout how our little republic experiment went to hell. What the fuck did the uptight shit expect from us? At least we ain't the ones mutterin' in our sleep about joinin' the crosses, whatever those are. Did he decide to go find God or some shite?"

"The bigger you dream, the harder you fall." Edward mused with a passing glimmer of sympathy as Benjamin Hornigold shook his fist at them while screaming the word bastards over and over in the distance. "What 'ave you got planned, Charles?"

"Some of my men have reported some British boys makin' camp by the swamp. Washin' their dirty laundry in the murky-waters, the pompous fools. Want to come with me to see who gets snapped up by a crocodile first?"

"Some other time, mate." Edward said as he and Charles Vane parted ways. Edward reached the beach, and stepped into a rowboat, pushing it out to sea. Trying not to think about Benjamin Hornigold's warnings or the news of a King's pardon. Was it better to live in a dream of one's own making or face the harshness of reality? All Edward knew at the moment was that there had been plenty of merry times with his fellow pirates, but there'd also been the sicknesses and the growing divisions between them. Even the rum wasn't tasting the same anymore.

* * *

 **Tulum**

"I trust the voyage was not too rough, Edward?" Mary Read, sitting on a log on the shore, asked. Throughout the beach, Assassins were dragging dead men in uniforms through the sand.

"What happened here?" Edward asked, ignoring the venomous glares of all the Assassins as they became aware of his presence.

"Same old, same old. Only this time the Templars thought they could accomplish differently by sending some Frenchmen. It went horribly… for them." Mary nonchalantly said as she wiped blood from the tip of a sword. "I wouldn't venture further if I were you, Edward. Your name's still good as mud 'round here. Someone who lost a friend to your mischief is just itchin' to have an 'accident' during target practice."

"I suppose all the contracts I've been answering in your shit-lined pigeon coops haven't been enough to sway Ah Tabai's mind? Pity... I thought you people would be grateful if I assassinated all those meddlesome Templars."

"Aye, the help is appreciated, don't get me wrong. But any fool can kill a man, Edward. What makes the difference between the Assassin and the hired mercenary are the motives behind the killing, and if we hadn't the foresight to attach all those reales to those contracts…" Mary shrugged. "Who knows, good sir?"

"Why'd you send a letter to me in Nassau requesting my presence here, then?" Edward asked, suspicious. "I know that none of you Assassins are keen on just having a talk with me."

"Ah Tabai was reluctant to enlist you in this mission, but I put in my word for you. We need a captain of your experience." Mary answered as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a sack before tossing it to Edward. The contents rustled and jingled as it landed into his outstretched palms. "That's just the preliminary payment."

"Just preliminary, you say?" Edward's eyes twinkled and his heart skipped a beat as he made a quick estimate of the money inside. It was more money than the price of a man's life. "I'd been intending to catch up on a few Observatory leads, but I suppose I can make a few allotments in my schedule, yes."

Mary rolled her eyes while Edward was still rifling through the coins. Ah Tabai was right, he still had a long way to go, she thought. But sometimes it seemed like she was the only one who still trusted that Edward could turn around and start running in the right direction. She stood up and handed him some papers. He stole a glance at her, winced at her expression of disdain regarding his greed, and then looked through the papers. A drawing of a Man O' War and a fleet bearing a flag of a skeleton with an… "interesting" protrusion in its lower extremities entering a prisoner's eye socket, a sketch of an ornate box, and a map with coordinates.

"Another Templar needing to be taken out of the picture?" Edward asked as he took a step towards Mary. Before Mary could answer, another voice did.

"Not quite." Edward turned his head to see Ah Tabai emerging from the jungles with a contingent of Assassin guards. "Keep your hands away from her, Edward Kenway. Who knows where they've been, you rogue? And listen closely."

"Relax, mate. I'm still a married man. In my heart, that is." Edward said. "And please tell your friends to stop pointing those blowpipes at me."

"No." Ah Tabai's face was stone as he said that.

"Ah, fine then. Now tell me what the hell you want me to do, before I tire of your conspiracies and head off to Havana to get smashed." Edward said as he pocked the papers and crossed his arms.

"The Man O' War is named the _Geoduck._ It belongs to an enigmatic fellow called Richard Finn. But like your old friend Thatch, they call him by another name in hushed whispers… Spotted Dick." Mary explained to Edward.

"And what makes him any different from any other enterprising man of fortune?"

"He's a neutral party in this war between us and the Templars. In his eyes, everything is fair game for plunder." Ah Tabai said. "In the time that he's been terrorizing seafarers, he's accumulated a vast fortune. And not all of it is gold."

"Aye. We have cause to believe that Richard Finn has found artifacts pertaining to the same civilization of origin as that of the Observatory."

"Ah, you had my attention. Now you have my interest." Edward grinned. Everyone else frowned.

"It will not be an easy task." Ah Tabai warned. "In addition to his own bodyguards, it seems that our enemies have caught word of Richard Finn's treasure fleet. Both the Templars Woodes Rogers and Laureano Torres have hired men to pursue the fleet and acquire its bounty for the Templars. Independent parties, motivated by their greed, pursue the fleet as well. I should have sent reliable men I know I can trust for a mission of this magnitude, but Mary has persuaded me to set aside ten thousand of our reales to send you instead. Let us down…"

"And you'll do what?" Edward asked mockingly. "Do a wicked hex on me with your Assassin magic?"

"No. But you'll wish we had." Mary winked. Edward sighed and spoke. "Fine. I'll do it. But good men sail under my command. If I lose far too many on this chase you send me… I'll come calling for a few favors of my own. And if that happens, you'll wish they'd be as simple as killing a man, Assassins."

With that, Edward turned and began walking back to the rowboat. Behind him, Mary whispered to Ah Tabai and he nodded. She walked towards Edward, catching up.

"Mind dropping me off at Havana? There are a few acquaintances my hidden blade shall make."

"I suppose it's not too much trouble." Edward nodded as he and Mary got into the rowboat. As he rowed towards the anchored _Jackdaw_ , another conversation was struck up as Mary started to pin her hair back up the way she wore it in her disguise as James Kidd.

"So what sort of favor were you referring to back there, Edward?"

"There's a life I left behind in Bristol. I haven't had much of a chance to… you know. I suppose with all your resources and expertise, checking up on a few things I remember won't be too hard a task for you Assassins."

"Ah, I see. You know, Edward, have you given it any more thought? Our proposal?"

"Join the Assassins? Nay, I say. If I dedicated my entire life to helping your goals, what of my own?"

"It's no wonder why the rest of us loathe you. You wear our best clothes and wield our blades, yet you serve only yourself. "

"You act as if that'll sway my mind. As if I give a damn of what the world regards of me. I have no place in my life for your mysticism, for your secret histories and conspiracies. All I want is the life I dreamed of, a place to sit and drink with all my mates without a single care in the world, a life where I'll never have to watch those I care about starve again."

"And what'll you do once you get that life, Captain Kenway? You ought to slow down, think all of this over…"

"If only I knew how to. I don't know, but I'm sure by then, I'll have figured it out."

"If the noose doesn't decide it for you first."

* * *

Mary Read was taking a rest in the Captain's quarters. Edward shut the door behind him, and draped a dusty cloak weathered by the winds and salty waves over his robes as he walked to the wheel.

"Captain at the helm!" Adewale called as Edward wrapped his hands around the spokes. The crew erupted in a cacophonous chorus of cheers. With another order, the crew rushed like ants as they unlashed the sails, and the _Jackdaw_ began to tread through the water like a pod of dolphins.

"Where to, Edward?" Adewale asked as the crew began to chant the lyrics to a shanty. The sun was shining like sparkling diamonds... shining like the fortunes contained within a treasure chest, on the ocean surface. The sight was reassuring to Edward. It would all be worth it, in the end. It had to be.

"Havana first. We'll drop Kidd off there. Then it's time to take care of business." He'd raided plenty of naval convoys, sent many a fearsome ship to the bottom of the ocean, before this day. What could be so hard about doing the same to this Spotted Dick?


	2. Gathering Storms

_All across the Caribbean Sea, they fell into place like raindrops in a pondwater pool of synchronicity. Cutthroats, vandals, and the madmen. Some sailed for their King, some sailed for their own gain. The phantom whisper of a great fleet commanded by no law or morality, led by a fearsome captain and a decrepit crew, the beckon of a greater treasure lurking within the dark hulls of the legion._

 _Only mere whispers were lent to the existence of Spotted Dick and his fleet, rumors delivered by ragged men slouched in half-drunk stupors at taverns across the sea, but in the world, a whisper alone could lead any enterprising individual to great places if he sailed far enough._

 _In Kingston, drops fell._

 _In Havana, drops fell._

 _In Nassau, drops fell._

 _In Tulum, drops fell._

 _All across the world, drops fell._

 _The air was clouding up with exotic scents, musk of scheming and war-hungry minds._

* * *

 **Havana**

A ship flying the flag of the British Empire entered the port in the morning. After a thorough examination, the guest of honor departed his vessel, on the way to the Governor's Mansion.

If not for the scar marring a side of his face, the Englishman would be a handsome sight strolling through the streets of Havana, escorted by the Governor's finest men. His sight was a catalyst of discussion, even ridicule and disgust, amongst the Spaniards who lay eyes on him. But his reputation was great enough that those who felt such feelings kept them to themselves, so that they may also keep their tongues.

Mary Read had been going about her own business, investigating a corrupt merchant believed to be on the Templar's payroll. So far, she'd uncovered enough evidence to prove the ties, and turn the investigation into a hunt. But then the sight of the Englishman coming down the street caught her eyes, and she quickly ducked behind a corner to avoid detection as she recognized him instantly.

"Well now, if it isn't Woodes Rogers. Come once more to lick the heels of your master, Templar?" Mary muttered underneath her breath.

The merchant could live another day, he wouldn't be going anywhere. But she knew that the British Templar who'd been appointed governor of the Bahamas would be sailing as soon as he finished discussing business with the Templar Torres. She couldn't afford to waste time. She ran towards a nearby lift and sliced the rope, shooting herself up towards the roof.

"Alto!" An officer clad in Spanish yellow warned Mary before she threw her foot out and struck him in the belly, causing him to keel. A quick hook from her right hand put him to sleep instantly.

"Sorry, I've got an appointment to keep." Mary said as she continued to stalk the Templar's escort party from the rooftops above.

As they neared the walls of the Governor's Mansion, Mary leapt from the edge of the building she was on to an extending branch of a large tree. She slid down the tree, and stood crouched in a mass of vegetation as Woodes Rogers passed through the gates. Keeping her breath still, she followed him to the manor's terrace and watched as the man took to practicing targets on dummies set up in the terrace to pass the time. The impressed Spanish soldiers clapped with each shot of Rogers, every consecutive blast increasing in its daring.

"Enough of that." Mary turned her head and saw that the Grand Master of the Templars, Laureano Torres, was entering the terrace with his brutish armor-clad bodyguard El Tiburon by his side. "Have you come to talk business with me, or have you come merely to show off to the grunts?"

Mary cursed silently. Two major Templars were right in front of her, but it would be suicide to try and kill them here. Not with so many blasted soldiers and that silent brute crawling about.

"Ah, forgive me, Grand Master." Woodes Rogers shrugged apologetically as he set his pistols aside. "I hadn't been sure when you'd be gracing us with your presence. I trust that all has been well since the last time we convened?"

"Not at all." Torres sighed as he stroked his beard. An aide, meek in the presence of the hulking bodyguard, handed Torres a cup of morning tea. He sipped and scowled bitterly before speaking again. "Sometimes, Rogers, I wake after a devilish premonición in my sleep and despair as I ponder the apparent futility of our mission to bring order to this world. Our armories and naval networks have still to recover from the loss of Julien du Casse. The hunt for the Sage Roberts continues to no success."

"The ocean is a vast place, but we are far vaster. He cannot hide forever."

"This is assuming that they... the Assassins…" Torres scowled the word with such venom that Mary shuddered at the thought of what could lay beneath the Spanish governor's cordial surface. "…do not find it first. Ah, the Assassins. Have you thought about them often, Rogers? At the core, our ultimate goals do not differ… but they possess no finesse, no sane thought as to properly accomplish it."

"Not often, Grand Master. I'd rather not live my life constantly looking over my shoulder."

"I'd imagine a man scarred as you are does not flinch often. Such resolve is why your empire has shown you favor, why you could have so deservedly earned a spot amongst the highest circle of the Templars, if not for your business endeavors. Wipe that look from your face, Rogers. Today I do not wish to discuss your history with the East India Company. Instead…" Torres took out a ruined flag and laid it out. "…let us talk about something that has been acquired by a recent skirmish at sea."

"That flag… I thought it to be a mere rumor passed on by ignorant pirates." Woodes Rogers shuddered as he gazed upon its insignia.

"As did I. But Richard Finn is as real a man as we are."

"That means his ill-gained fortune is real too, does it not?"

"Indeed, Rogers." Torres finished his tea. "And it would serve a far greater purpose, to hasten the peace in the Caribbean, in the coffers of the Templar Order. If El Tiburon's interrogation of a survivor of that battle is to be believed, it is not just gold the pirate carries. We must make haste, before the Assassins realize it. Perhaps it will even gain us a lead in the hunt for the Observatory."

He snapped his fingers. A black-haired man wearing a long white coat over an emerald vest carrying a Spanish saber in a scabbard walked up to Torres and Rogers, pride imbued in every inch of his gait.

"Grand Master Torres. Governor Rogers. My name is Renardo Aguilar, at your service."

"I've heard of you." Rogers said respectfully. "A valuable soldier in our war against the Assassin filth, I am told."

"Soldier? Bah! I prefer to think of myself as an artist, my blade my brush, and the bodies of the Assassins the canvas on which I paint." To demonstrate, Renardo withdrew his blade and sliced through the air, the air making whooshing noises with each swift slash of his weapon. "I was taught by the world's greatest swordsmen, schooled in the finest techniques of fight. From the castles of Spain to jungles of the Americas, many Assassins have tried to debate the standing of La Verdadera Destreza with me _._ I have yet to meet any that can exceed my skill."

Mary had heard and seen enough. She snuck out the same she'd come, raising not a hair of suspicion. First things first, head back to Tulum to inform Ah Tabai of what she'd just uncovered. So Richard Finn, the pirate captain Spotted Dick, was real after all. She'd heard many horror stories sitting at the tavern in Nassau, in between witnessing the drunken antics of Edward Kenway and Jack Rackham. Not a target to be taken lightly, but she knew just the right man for the job.

Then she'd come back to Havana to finish what she'd originally set out to do. All in all, a productive day of work.

* * *

 **Kingston**

Woodes Rogers watched the groups of redcoats board the Man O' War. Torres had already sent Renaldo on his way long ago in pursuit of the fleet of Spotted Dick, but Rogers would suppose that it would help gain him a few favors with the King back in the British Isles if an operation of his conducting was to bring the pirate outlaw to justice. Of course, he'd be sure to lose the artifact in an accident… an accident that would send it floating to the safe depositories of a Templar fortress.

But given that this was a dangerous operation, one that could turn into a silly chase for nothing, Rogers supposed that he wouldn't risk the best of the men under his governorship such as Commodore Chamberlaine on this. No, instead, he decided to send a man they could afford to lose. A stringent, commodore in love with the empire who'd question nothing. Unpopular amongst all the men, with no successes to his name and only in his position due to a series of freak accidents involving all ahead of him, but that was just a part of the reason why he was the man for the job.

Who knew? Even if things did not wind up for the best, Rogers supposed that the fallout could be manipulated to best serve the interest of the Templars. Ah yes! That would be even better than destroying the pirate Richard Finn. It would provide him with an excuse to pressure his Highness to grant him more resources to battle the vicious pirates of the Caribbean… resources that would be diverted to the shadow war in reality.

"Hold on." Rogers ordered the men loading material into the hold of the Man O' War. "There's been a chance in orders, gentlemen."

"Halve the supply? You must be mad if you think that will help me best those dastardly pirates, Governor Rogers!" Commodore Thornbeard, his squeaky voice grating on Roger's nerves as usual. With his big bushy and curly dirty beard grown all around the thin slit that was his mouth of yellow teeth with black holes, his mouth looked almost like a… no, that was far too dirty a thought for a man in his position. A politician should never have such illicit thoughts, Rogers believed.

"Come now, Commodore. Have some faith in yourself. You need not the arsenal of the entire Royal Navy to best a few simple pirates. All it takes is some shock and awe." He whispered some more words into Commodore Thornbeard's ear. "I have a good feeling that this shall be the voyage that ends your streak of bad luck, one that will finally gain you the respect of your men."

"R-r-really?" Commodore Thornbead's legs buckled together, quivering in excitement. His eyes started to grow bubbly. "I-I-I won't l-let you down, Governor! For Britannia!" He cheered as he stomped back onto the deck of his ship.

"Good riddance." Rogers muttered as the Man O' War, the _HMS Lenny_ , set sail. "Good Lord…" He muttered as he looked down at his clothes. "The little rat breathed on me… I feel so inconsiderably violated…"

* * *

 **Nassau**

"Hey, leave it! I found it first! I'm the one that paid the reales for this dusty locker in the Havana market! It's my rightful possession!" Jack Rackham protested as he tried to keep the small chest in his grip, away from the stronger pull of Charles Vane. "You big bastard! Why must you always take everything I have from me?"

"Grr! Let go, you stinkin' little runt!" Vane spat as he and Jack Rackham continued to wrestle for ownership of the chest. "I'm the captain here! You're just the bloody quartermaster! You answer to me, you crying little fucker! It's my rightful possession! And don't you dare imply my own mother violated wedlock, you piss-stain!" He added as he socked Jack Rackham across the jaw, causing him to drop the chest. It cracked open, spilling its contents onto the floor of the tavern.

"The crew can't take much more of your attitude, Captain! We're the ones doin' all the fightin' for ya, but this is how you treat us! Like we're not better than swollen foot-sores!" Rackham insisted as he crawled away, while Vane began to examine the papers found in the chest.

"Do I look like I give a single damn about what your opinion is, Rackham? When I want an opinion from you, I'll tell ya what to think! And if you can't handle it, I'll replace you and the lot of them seditious lads after shoving my pistols up your loud-mouthed arse!"

"Pfft." Anne Bonny rolled her eyes as she wiped a glass at the other end of the tavern. "A bunch of bloody pirates are what yeh boys are. What the hell do any of yeh know about righteousness… but I suppose I shouldn't be the lass bein' the judge of character and all. Heh…"

"Treasure! Treasure is what I have stumbled across here!" Charles Vane bragged to all of the witnesses.

"You mean treasure I stumbled aaagh!" Rackham screamed as Charles Vane pushed him over the railing.

"Shut up for a second, will ya? As you can see, this is a map of coordinates! An island base of the dreaded pirate Richard Finn! Quiet and reclusive fella he is, but it'll make plunderin' his fleet and home all easier. Ah, me heart beats furiously at the mere thought of all the gold soon to be mine!"

"Um… Captain Vane… how about sharin' some with us? It's carin', right?" Rackham asked timidly.

"Aw, shaddup already will ya! Of course I'll share wit' ya… share ya the knuckles of me fist!"

Anne looked at the scene with some great curiosity as Vane triumphantly exited, with his crew submissively following behind him, the weeping Jack Rackham trailing furthest.

"Your bew'ful, why be unfaithful 'n waste time on 'em, I love yeh, Anne, really…" Oh Christ, it was her husband, if they could even still be considered married. Drunk from the stresses of his dedication to his job at the plantation once more. He tried to latch onto her. "Ho… hold me… let's be together once more…"

"Of course, James. I'll hold yeh." She said before grabbing his crotch tightly and twisting, bringing him to shrieks of pain. "Don't come and bother me when I'm at work again." She warned him as he sped off. What did she ever seen in the giant dullard? All work and no play, what a dull boy James Bonny was. There surely had to be a better way to have fun on this rat-hole than pour drinks to drunkards in between her fantasies day after day.

* * *

 **Great Inagua**

"Has the Jackdaw been restocked yet?" Edward Kenway asked Adewale as he walked past the brothel in the town, politely waving down the advances of the prostitutes.

"Indeed, Edward. We could take on all the forts in the Caribbean and still have enough gunpowder to take an entire convoy." Adewale answered as he and Edward walked onto the Jackdaw's deck, receiving greetings from the crew.

As the Jackdaw set sail towards the coordinates mentioned on the paper that the Assassins had given him, Edward noticed that Adewale did seem a tad bit troubled.

"What's the matter, Ade? Is there something troubling your mind, my friend?"

"Aye, Edward. We've sailed together for quite some time. Seen many sights together, stood side-by-side against our enemies and bled as one… I know you well, but why you mock the Assassins and yet do their work confuses me greatly."

"It's not much of a puzzle, Ade. They're a silly bunch of sods, but they pay a tidy sum for work." Edward said as his eyes remained focused on the ocean ahead of them. "You see the ocean, Ade? Somewhere, amidst the waves, floats our prize. A prize that's part of a greater puzzle, a puzzle that'll fulfill the measure of our dreams when we complete it. What I dream of, a better life for myself and those I care about, it's worth risking my life for."

"Worth everything to you, Edward?"

"Of course, Ade. It's worth going to hell and back for, to wade my way through an inlet of dammed and dying men with a knife between teeth and swords in hand. The Assassins, Van Der Graff's contracts, the Observatory, the fleet that we pursue now, all of 'em are just pieces of the puzzle."

"They seem to fight for a just cause, Edward. Of liberation and other motives that are no shame to follow."

"They claim to promote freedom, and yet they still possess a Creed that restricts it. How can one claim that nothing is true and everything is permitted when there are still tenets to their lifestyles? I just want a life where I'll never have to be another man's dog again…"

"You think that is something only you want?" Adewale's face darkened. "Or that you truly know what it's like to be someone's dog?"

"Of course not! But… the Assassins are like a band of children playin' make-believe. Trying to fight, to win something they know they can't. I served the King as a privateer once, I've had enough of that type of life. I want one where I can live freely, without greater commitments."

"The freedom to do what one wants without any resistance? Is that not the power that grants men to the power to do cruel things to other men?" Adewale asked.

"We're bloody pirates, Adewale. Look at ourselves! It's just what we do!" Edward said.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Edward. We can try to be something greater…"

"Oh yes, we can try. We tried with Nassau, look how that's turnin' out. Thatch is gone, everyone else is at each other's throats, forgettin' that we're mates. Mates are meant to look out for one another, not quarrel and scheme between themselves. No, I've seen what happens when we try to go too grand. Nassau is proof enough that there'll never be anythin' to overtake the monarchies that works. I'd bet that even my grandchildren will never know such a world, much less help make it."

"So what then, Edward?"

"I just want a place I call my own. Our own, Adewale… hell, we already have it. Great Inagua. Just a few more touches, and it'll be perfect."

"If you say so, Captain. If you say so…" But Adewale's voice was a bit more doubtful than it was before.

"Onward, men! And sing us a song!" Edward ordered to the crew. "Riches and glory await us in the waters ahead!"


	3. On the Horizon

The _HMS Lenny_ had been at sea for only five days, accompanied by a fleet of schooners and gunboats – primarily because Woodes Rogers was too cheap to spare anything bigger on this ship. Yet already the mood on board seemed to be turning mutinous quickly. Commodore Thornbeard simply wasn't a popular, bright, or competent man when it came to anything, really. Everyone but the Templars wondered why he had been chosen to head such an important pirate hunting mission. Even Thornbeard didn't even know the real reason he'd been chosen, merely repeating the same lies Woodes Rogers had told him in his head until they had become reality.

"Listen to me, good knaves! As your commander, I bring you urgent news detailing the mission that has been bestowed upon us!" Commodore Thornbeard orated quite loudly as he stood at the helm over the mass of British redcoats. Most of them were blinking, yawning, struggling to avoid falling asleep. "For far too long, we have abided the lawless ruffians… these pirates of the Caribbean, to terrorize merchants and good men making an honest living! But now is to strike fear back into their hearts, remind them that they cannot trample upon the tail of great Britannia and avoid reprisal by our fearsome might!"

"You mean like those pirates right there?" One of the soldiers pointed over the starboard side.

"HUH? PIRATES? HERE?" Commodore Thornbeard's cocksure face that he'd put on while giving his speech suddenly turned into that of a child who set the house on fire by mistake… and whose parents had just come home. He ducked behind an officer, as if he was using the man as a shield. The officer looked mortified simply because the Commodore was touching him. "Oh Christ, oh Christ, oh Christ… please take them instead of me… please take instead of me…" Then he realized he said all of that out loud. His face turned a ghastly shade of red, like an overripe apple or a sunburned robin.

"Silly Commodore, they're all the way over there!" The crew and redcoats all laughed.

"Phew…" The Commodore wiped his sweaty brow. "Wait… did you just all speak down to me? LAUGH AT ME? I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW… I WAS COMMANDING SHIPS IN THE FURIOUS WATERS OF QUEEN ANNE'S WAR WHEN YOU WERE ALL JUST LEARNING HOW TO SPELL YOUR NAME!"

"He commanded a fleet?" One of the redcoats in the captive audience asked his arm mate.

"I… I… I…" The Commodore's eyes were teary as he continued to rant, like he had fallen into a pit where chefs were chopping onions for all perpetuity. "I… led our Majesty's majestic navy to victory against the French and Spanish while you discovered how to masturbate with help from your sister!"

"Nah. Storm hit the fleet he was sailing with. Sunk everyone but him. Also sunk the entire enemy fleet by coincidence. The frigate that picked him up found him stark raving mad, trying to steer a piece of debris. Tried to take all the credit anyhow." The other redcoat whispered back.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I can hear all you traitorous gits, plotting behind my back! Well, I'm onto you! I will have you all shackled tighter than a slave ship! Anyhoo…" The Commodore wiped more sweat from his brow. "About those pirates…"

"Aren't we meant to do something about them?"

"Only if they're attacking ships flying our flag. That's bad. Otherwise, it's not our problem." The Commodore stated quite nonchalantly.

"What if they're cuttin' up some big-bellied lass carryin' a child?"

"Well, if that big-bellied lass happens to be a citizen of Great Britain, of course we'll come charging in with everything we got. But she happens to be French or Spanish or so on, well poo-poo for her! One less future soldier for our enemies, I say!" The Commodore smiled at that.

Someone handed him a spyglass. He extended it and saw a brig bearing the black flag, causing him to urinate himself at the thought of his own life being in danger which caused giggles from the crew still watching him, exchanging cannon-fire with the Spanish. On the brig, the blonde-haired Captain and his dark-skinned first mate noticed the _HMS Lenny_ , and they waved at him before resuming the battle with the Spanish. The Commodore's heart skipped a beat and he gasped, out of breath and scared shitless by those evil heartless pirate monsters noticing him, and he stumbled backwards before collapsing over onto the deck.

"Ouchie!" Commodore Thornbeard cried as he rubbed his bottom, acquiring more mockery from his crew. Hearing this, his brows furrowed and he pouted before flying into another rage.

"CURSE ALL YOU IMBECILES! DO YOU NOT KNOW THE GRAVITY OF THIS SITUATION! THESE PIRATES WE SEEK, THEY HAVE POSSESS NONE OTHER THAN… ARMAMENTS OF TOTAL DEVASTATION! I have this knowledge on very good word from the territorial governor himself, even if no such physical evidence attests to their existence! But no matter! We must remove this pirate mastermind Spotted Dick's presence from the Caribbean right now, lest he thinks to use those armaments on us! Other empires, those inferior Spanish and French dogs, pursue this pirate scoundrel merely for his gold! But not us! We British are men of virtue! But if… um… if you, er… come across any gold while looking for these Armaments of Total Devastation, feel free to pick it up. Our Good King could do with a few more coins in his coffer!"

"That's total bullshite! Why nae jist come oot wi' it an' say ye just want th' dosh?" An irritated Scottish soldier piped up. Commodore Thornbeard looked as if he had been slapped across the face and then kneed in the wee willy.

"You… you dare to speak against me? This… is… insubordination!" Commodore Thornbeard roared. "Oh, I have so had it with you dim-headed nitwits! Thinking that you can rabble slander and lies behind my back! Well, no longer! Clap him in chains! I shall make an example out of you!"

"Weel, thees looks loch a slight bummer." The Scottish soldier said slightly perturbed as two officers reluctantly clapped his legs in chains.

"Um, what about the arms? Clap his arms as well!" Commodore Thornbeard ordered.

"Um, sir, we were only supplied with one set of irons." The quartermaster explained. "The Governor was quite insistent that we were not to go overboard with the resources."

"Ugh… fine. Free arms will matter not when you… WALK… THE… PLANK…" Commodore Thornbeard said before bursting into a riotous chorus of laughter.

"I'll see ye at th' bottom aye th' brine, Commodore!" The Scotsman, defiant to the end, spat as a plank was extended. Flintlock at his back, he was pushed to the edge before falling off. As the sound of water splashing was heard, the chuckling Commodore took a cup of tea and sipped it with quite some relish. He looked over the side of the ship to watch the Scotsman drown, but then he saw quite a horrific sight made him spit out his tea!

"Ha! I willnae forgit tae write, Commodore Cuntbeard!" The Scotsman laughed as he held onto the dolphin, streaking through the ocean water like a silver rocket. The dolphin squeaked, as if was joining in on the mockery.

"Bloody hell!" The Commodore looked like he was about to burst into tears. "He's getting away! He'll compromise the sanctity and secrecy of our mission!"

"Come to think of it, his beard does kinda make his mouth look like a cunt." Another soldier commented, sparking off several snickers.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! This behavior is quite abhorrent for British soldiers! But we cannot let him get away! Fire everything we got at that deserter!"

At the Commodore's screeching insistence, the crew scrambled to work. Loading cannonball after cannonball, aiming swivel after swivel, the _HMS Lenny_ unleashed its full firepower on the fleeing Scotsman and his newfound cetacean friend. Heavy shots that were like great balls of fire, mortars that sung of angry old gods conjuring thunder, the crew even begun flinging their whaling harpoons when the supplies of gunpowder ran dry.

As the smoke cleared, the Commodore's mouth dropped as he saw that the Scotsman had been unscathed. He continued to slip away on the dolphin, getting further and further out of sight. From far away, there were echoes of laughter and squeaking. However, the display of shock and awe by the _HMS Lenny_ was not in vain. She had managed to sink something today… her escorting fleet.

"Blimey! Commodore Cuntbeard, you've sunk our bodyguards!"

"No, no, no, this can't be happening… it couldn't have been me, it must've been malicious sabotage by French agents…" He fell to his knees and his tear ducts broke. "And please don't call me that! It really hurts my feelings!"

* * *

"Do you hear thunder, Ade?" Edward asked as he barked orders to the crew, commanding them to brace, as he maneuvered the Jackdaw through another bridge of fiery shot from the Spanish frigate they had attacked.

"Captain, I can hear nothing above this cacophony!" Adewale managed to yell as he and Edward ducked in time for several blazing cannonballs to go over their heads.

"Blast! I knew I shouldn't have let myself get distracted by those British! We're in a damned jam here!" Edward cursed as the crew of the Jackdaw hastily loaded several rounds into the cannons. "Come on! Steady! Fire!"

As the cannons bombarded the side of the frigate, Adewale shouted to Edward. "Don't lose hope, Captain! The Spanish may possess more guns but they have no captain who can sail as well as you!"

As Adewale's words went through his ears, Edward saw that the cannons had hit chipped away at the frigate's sides. Some of their own cannons had been blasted back, opening gaping wounds in the frigate that exposed its interiors. Edward felt a twinkle grow in his eye as he spied stores of black gunpowder that looked like unguarded chests of treasure in the chaos of the battle.

"We've gotten their stores exposed! Fire the swivels and them flying sky high!" Edward shouted. They were sailing close enough that when the swivels fired upon the gunpowder stores and set them ablaze, they could hear the barrels explode and many a crew member was temporarily deafened left with ringing in their ears. Even saw a few Spaniards catch on fire and fall off deck or through the holes in the ship to plummet into a watery grave.

"The frigate's weakened!" The Jackdaw's gunner cried out. "The Spaniards are turning tail!"

"Hah! Ade, you were right! We sail in fortune's winds! Now after her!" Edward commanded, with the Jackdaw unleashing full sail. Propelled by the wind, the Jackdaw sliced through the water like a great white shark towards the limping frigate.

"Their sail seems weak, Captain. It may only take a few shots to cripple the Spanish for good!" Adewale advised, pointing at the mast of the Spanish frigate.

"Excellent idea, Ade. Where would I be without you?"

"Dangling at the end of a prison yard's rope, most likely." Adewale chuckled as the Jackdaw's crew loaded several chained shots into the front cannons before firing them at the frigate. True to Adewale's words, the crew cheered as the sails of the frigate collapsed before their eyes, stranding the Spanish ship place.

"To arms, men! Ready to board the vessel and strip her to the bone!" Edward ordered as he steered the Jackdaw's starboard side right up to the Spanish frigate. As soon as he did, the crew of the Jackdaw fired hooks that snagged into the wood of the Spanish frigate like mosquitoes drawing blood underneath a feverish sun. Dragging the Jackdaw close to the frigate, the crew began to scramble like monkeys on the ropes, advancing on the Spanish like wolves closing in on prey.

"Watch my back, Ade!" Edward said as Adewale took control of one of the Jackdaw's swivel guns, blasting away at the Spanish and their on-deck gunpowder stores. Edward vaulted over the wheel of the Jackdaw, running towards a lift. Slicing the rope, he propelled himself up. He eyed the chaotic deck of the frigate briefly with his special sight, catching eye of the Spanish captain.

"Gotcha!" Edward said. He then grabbed a rope and swung over into the heart of the fight.

"Mis pantalones están llenos de mierda!" The Spanish Captain managed to scream before Edward descended from the rope as it came over him and plunged the tips of his swords into the Spaniard's chest. He managed to gurgle out some blood before Edward planted the tips of each sword next to the man's head and with a mighty slash, cleaved through his head. As it rolled down the steps, it landed at the feet of a marksman desperately trying to hold off Edward's pirates. He looked at once and vomited all over it, before recovering.

"Él mató al capitán! Atrápalo!" The marksman shouted before he was blown to bloody bits by an exploding gunpowder barrel that one of Edward's pirates had lit.

Covered in the blood and guts of their marksman, several Spanish soldiers rushed up to confront Edward. The first to arrive was an officer who carried a knife in each hand, and rolled over Edward's shoulder, intending to hit him from behind. Just as he made the first slash, Edward raised a sword over his shoulder behind his neck, blocking the blades. With a quick motion of his other hand, he drove his sword through the officer's stomach.

"Estás muerto, pirata!" A tall and muscular soldier about seven feet in height flung a grenade at Edward's feet. Cursing, Edward rolled out of the way right before it went boom. But before Edward could recover, the giant swung a giant naval axe right at him. Raising his swords, Edward suddenly had one of those moments as the giant knocked them out of his hands and sent them flying over the railing into the ocean. There was a faint splash, and the giant laughed.

The giant continued to swing and chop at Edward, who managed to dodge each strike every time. But he was running out of room, and he would soon tire. He couldn't keep this up all day. So, as the giant swung at him with a high blow, Edward ducked and found himself in the position he desired. He swung his fist in an uppercut, hitting the giant's nether region.

"Ooooooog!" Was the only sound that came out of the giant as he collapsed. Edward lifted his boot as the giant squirmed on the ground, and brought it down with a stamp onto the giant's neck, snapping it.

"This is for my swords, you bull-humping pillocks!" Edward yelled as he took the giant's axe in hand. It was heavy and every swing felt like it would take his arms off with it, but Edward continued down the steps cleaving away at every Spanish soldier, staining the deck with blood, fallen intestines, and dismembered limbs.

Tiring of the heavy weapon, Edward managed to toss it at an officer who was about to kill one of his crew. The force of the axe sent the officer flying over deck after the blade hit him in the back and went bursting through his chest like a wooden ram.

Edward spied a sword lying on deck, not a breath away from its fallen previous owner. Edward dove for it, but just as he was about to grab it, a Spanish boot kicked it away from him. Edward rolled out of the way as a sword tip came thrusting downwards. Four Spaniards twirling their weapons in show surrounded him.

Edward was on them instantly. Smashing one's head into the ground, he whirled around and kicked another in the belly before forcing his arm upward and slitting the Spaniard's throat with his own sword. Then the last two decided they could play their luck for double, coming at Edward with their swords drawn back for stabs. Edward sidestepped backwards, causing the two Spaniards to run each other through. As the two frowned and looked down at the sight of their swords sticking out of each other's guts, Edward popped out his hidden blades and punched both of them full of holes.

Readying himself for more Spanish, Edward saw that instead many soldiers were backing away from him and kneeling down in surrender, with some hopping overboard to their deaths.

"Want some more? My crew and I can keep this up all night!" Edward barked at the Spanish, with one of his crew who could speak the language translating, making sure to magnify his presence as Hornigold once advised him. "But of course, if you don't desire to be sent home to your families in boxes with your bodies bloated by the brine and unrecognizable… I'm in a diplomatic mood today."

"Qué estás haciendo? No rendirse!" A voice interrupted. Edward turned his head and saw that a new enemy was emerging from deck. He was no ordinary Spanish soldier, Edward deduced as he glimpsed the fancy white and green coat he was wearing. He and his new adversary eyed one another, before the black-haired Spanish man smirked and broke the silence.

"Well now…" The Spaniard switched to heavily accented English. "What have we here? Another Assassin to send to their grave?"

"Me? An Assassin? No mate, this is just an early All Hallow's Eve costume."

"Your point is moot. You display skills close to their level. This will be a pleasure." The Spaniard snapped his fingers and a quivering soldier handed him his sword. The Spaniard tossed his sword at Edward, who caught it, eying him with some trepidation.

"Why the dirty look? We may be on opposite sides, but I am still a man of honor. I would never strike down a man unarmed with my art." The Spaniard motioned to his sword.

"You're out of your mind, mate." Edward sighed, trying not to laugh at how seriously the Spanish man seemed to be taking sword-fighting. The way he talked about it, calling it an art, it was almost like he slept with those swords and kept greasing materials nearby handy because of that.

"Out of my mind? No, it's you who's out of their mind here. A miserable pirate who thinks he can stand up to the Templars? Inform the Devil when he comes to meet you that Renardo Aguilar proved you wrong. Now, let us settle this like men of honor." The Spaniard made fancy whirling motions with his sword, demonstrating an impressive set of stylish and deadly looking sword slashes.

"Nice try, you bloody fop." Edward said as he tossed the sword he'd been given aside, and then pulled out all four of his pistols and fired shots into Renardo Aguilar. Renardo looked down his bleeding chest, before slumping down onto his knees. Edward walked over to him as he was gasping his last breaths. The Spaniard glared him with dying contempt, spitting blood onto Edward's boot. Edward casually wiped it off on one of the bound captive Spanish soldiers, as Renardo managed to choke out a few words.

"You… you… dishonorable canalla. The deepest circle of hell is reserved for bastardos such as you."

"Mate, I've got myself plenty of honor. Just is, you Templars got a different idea of it then I do. Rats like you who want to control everything, you're the ones without any real honor."

"No matter… you'll be dead soon."

"Is that so?"

"We were in pursuit… under orders of the Grand Master himself…" Renardo started breathing hard, sounding like his breath was being sucked out him and channeled through a broken organ. "Of a pirate of wicked legend… the scourge of a million dying men. The fleet of Richard Finn…"

"What a coincidence! So was I!"

"Then you… you… are… a greater fool than I thought. What chance does a loudmouthed king of nothing such as yourself have against a true legend? I'll… see… you.. in…" He collapsed forward before he could finish his sentence.

"We'll see about that." Edward said before turning his attention to the captive Spanish crew. "Alright now, the show's over! Now, who wishes to join me for a hectic but merry lifetime of riches and adventure? Shout aye, but if you'd rather swim all the way back to Havana, shout nay!"

Edward smiled as several of the Spanish began desperately shouting aye, like barking dogs before dinnertime. But there were a few who would die for the King, Edward saw to his disappointment. True to his word, his crew lifted the dissenters up and tossed them overboard. As an afterthought, he wondered if any of them could actually swim back to Havana. It was a long distance they'd gone…

"Oh, does anybody have two swords I can borrow? You won't be getting them back, by the way." Edward asked as he turned and started walking back to the Jackdaw. A nodding Spanish, greatly hoping to gain favor with his new master, shoved two fine looking swords into Edward's hands. Edward chuckled and clapped him on the back as he stepped back onto the Jackdaw's deck, leaving behind Renardo Aguilar and the rest of the dead to sink to the depths.

"What have you taken, Captain?" Adewale asked as they observed the crew loading the cargo looted from the frigate into the hold and repairing the damage the Jackdaw sustained during the fight.

"Plenty of heavy shot and mortar. Scrapped a couple pounds of metal and wood from 'em that might be useful in the future. Took some goods that we could sell for a nice sum when we return from this expedition."

"If we return, that is."

"Come on, Ade! We hang around plenty of pirates! All that nasty reputation stuff is just for show!" Edward laughed. "Now if you'll excuse me, there was a Templar on board that frigate. I took some papers from his course. I'll be in my cabin studying them to see if there's any new information."

* * *

The next day, Edward was steering the Jackdaw through a thick fog as the crew sang a song about wiping their wads of money on the deck to keep up their spirits. Squinting his eyes, he noticed something. Sticking out of the water like a knife embedded in a loaf of bread.

"Ade? What is that?"

"Hard to tell with all this fog mucking about, Captain. It looks like a…"

"Shit!" Edward shouted as he steered the Jackdaw to the left hastily, narrowly avoiding a collision with the ruins of a fleet. "I mean, ship. Jaysus! Look at the size of this mess!"

The sea was littered with floating hunks drifting about. The crew's song about loads of money teetered to an abrupt end. It looked like a hurricane had gone through the fleet. In the water, there floated plenty of dead men in blue uniforms clinging to soggy-wood rafts. Edward was never a lover of kings and empires, but he also wasn't one to leave someone stranded in the ocean. But he was too late to help the fallen here. He identified a flag floating in the water.

"What the hell were the Portuguese doing this far from home?" Edward asked as the Jackdaw sailed past more wrecked ships and floating debris.

"Perhaps they had the same idea we did. Only they ran into Richard Finn first."

"They're long gone, but it don't look like the skirmish happened all too long ago." Edward mused. "There might be a fresh trail…"

"There is, Captain. Just follow the sharks." Adewale said, pointing. Looking, Edward saw with a chill that there was a long red trail in the water with several silver fins like green plants in a white desert sticking out. "They know there's going to be plenty of food for them in the future, Edward. Pray we do not end up in their bellies."

"We won't, Ade. We won't…" Edward said as he noticed on the horizon, what looked like blurred smudges under the sun. He took out his spyglass and gasped at the magnitude of what he was witnessing.

It was the fleet of Spotted Dick.


	4. Closure?

"Utter, bloody bollocks." Edward sighed and muttered to himself, as he motioned for the barmaid. Back to where all this lunacy had begun. In Nassau drinking away, hardly any richer than the day he was before. The Assassins had paid him, yes, but only half of what they had promised. Blast it, factoring in the money spent recruiting men to replace the crew he lost, as well as the rate that he was drinking he'd seen be back at the level of wealth he'd been before this damned Spotted Dick business.

No, at this rate, he'd be poorer! Back to scrambling about, searching for goddamned Sages and Observatories, while everyone skeptically gaped at him.

"I'm sorry, we haven't a bottle of that." Anne Bonny smiled at him, like a mother pitying her child. "What's hangin' over you, Captain?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Edward grumbled as she passed him a bottle of rum. Edward uncorked it, and started chugging.

"That business with Spotted Dick, aye?" Anne continued to inquire. Edward swore, she'd left that part of her blouse loosened on purpose as she leaned in. His head starting to reel a bit from all he was drinking, he found himself nodding downwards. His gaze fixed.

"Richard Finn? Aye, 'twas a furious bloody mess I got my crew into. All for the promise of the plundering of a lifetime." Edward played with the bottle in his hands, listening to the remaining rum slosh about. Somewhere else in the tavern, Calico Jack moaned as he rested in a puddle of his own vomit.

Anne raised her left eyebrow somewhat teasingly.

"You sailed into battle against the fearsome Spotted Dick, and lived to tell the tale? An achievement, the first o' its kind, to yer credit."

"What use is a damn achievement when I've the sorriest haul to show for it?" Edward grumbled again, and took a sip. "But aye, call it an achievement if you wish. Charles Vane and his lap-dog Jacky were there too."

"I heard that damn insult! Kenway, you berk, I'll… I'll…" Calico Jack yelled from where he lay, and struggled to think of something really threatening to say.

"You'll just shut your sodding trap! Before I come and do it for you, and take your front teeth as my tax!" Edward snapped at Calico Jack. "And you, Vane, you ought to house-train your mongrel one of these days!"

Charles Vane, sitting across from Edward, hiccupped and looked none too pleased at Edward's suggestion.

"I'm a man that can do many things. But not even I can make the impossible possible." Vane replied.

"I don't care! Jack was on your ship in that boiling mess of a sea! If he hadn't-"

Vane cut him off.

"Fuck's sake, Edward, you're still pissed about that business? It's been an eternity!"

"Business you ruined, mate! By sticking your ugly face into, Charlie!"

"And what gave you the exclusivity to pursue that fortune? No entrepreneur got where he was by taking his turn last!" Vane spat onto the floor. Vane was quite bitter. A spot of foolishness on deck where Rackham had once again tried to procure the map he thought was his had resulted in the loss of the location of Finn's supposed treasure island, forcing them to pursue the fleet in hope of riches. "Blast, if we hadn't lost that map to the sea-winds..."

"Stop using bloody words you probably don't even know how to spell!" Edward certainly had no pity for his fellow pirate at this moment.

Vane hissed through his teeth and took a glug of his rum.

"Piss off back to your Jackdaw, Ed. You're drunk."

"So are you! Fuck off!"

Edward and Vane threw their bottles at each other. The rum bottles collided in mid-air and shattered, raining rum and shards onto Calico Jack. As Jack began to kick his legs and shriek like a banshee, Edward and Charles Vane glanced briefly at each other then the mess on the floor and at each other again.

Both parties decided that perhaps some matters of pride were best left unsettled and decided to try hard not to think about the other for the next two hours.

"Care to tell this poor Irish lass the tale? I've naught to aspire to but dreams of adventure on the high seas." Anne continued to pry. "I'll give yeh a drink, on the house."

"Dreams? Adventure?" Edward forced a chuckle. "This was more like a nightmare."

"This ought to be interestin'." Anne crossed her legs, ignoring her boss' shouts to get back to work and gave him a mocking salute.

"Well, the lads and I had pursued Spotted Dick for a time. Got into a few skirmishes along the way, but nothing we couldn't handle. Then we came along the wreckage. Newly-made graveyards, sinkin' to the ocean's bottom. Restin' among the devils, they all are. Can't see anyone who chased Spotted Dick risin' to the heavens. Chillin' sight, to think of all the men who died. Not the ones who'd been killed in the fightin', but those who'd survived, only to drown or be taken by the sharks."

"As a lass with quite a few romantic 'escapades' notched onto 'er belt, I can't quite agree that less rivals for the prize is much of a sad notion. Competition is fun, I suppose, but only when yeh know yeh can be the only winner."

"Pirates, King's men, all reduced to nothing at the end. Drownin' in the same stew of shite, I suppose. Wasn't long before we came across the fleet."

"Ooh, the best part!" Anne snarked.

"You ever see a royal naval convoy? A man o'war?" Edward asked and she nodded. "Well, whatever you saw was nothin' but a trail of ants compared to what Dick had."

Edward continued.

"Didn't have long to catch our breaths from the shock of seein' how massive the fleet was, before the alarm was sounded. Spotted Dick wasn't much for diplomacy. Unless you consider mortar fire a diplomatic greeting. And just our luck, we weren't alone."

"Oh, you mean Charlie over there?" Edward looked back at Vane who gave him a rather rude finger gesture.

"Not just him and his cargo of pillocks. All manner of ship an' vessel were comin' out of the mist, all gunnin' for Spotted Dick." Edward held his brow with his palm for a moment. "Not just the usual prats from 'round these parts. There were Florentines, minstrels from the look of it, in some devilish sailboat! I swore, they were coordinating their sailors with lutes and drums! Even a ship of Orientals, clad from head to toe in black and screaming devilish gibberish as they sailed into battle! Everyone must've heard about Spotted Dick and wanted his treasure. Everyone! Christ, sometimes I don't know if I didn't just dream the whole bloody battle."

"Yeh're definitely pullin' me leg with some o' this prattle, Kenway." Anne teased. "You must think me mad! As if Orientals would sail this far for pirate treasure!"

"Mad? That's what we were. A maelstrom of madmen, led by nothing but our own damn greed and ambition. None of us were very inclined to share with one another. It was a bloody race… or more truthful, an absolute fucking mess."

"Well, even if yer lyin', at least make it an entertainin' lie."

"I can't remember very much about the battle. Bullets and cannons were coming from everywhere, it seemed. We were firing at just about everyone. I was doin' my best to keep a cool head, rally the men's spirits. But I won't lie and say that I didn't shiver. Eventually managed to board the _Geoduck_ , however. I was plannin' to make it quick. A descent from above on a rope swing, take out Spotted Dick from the air. Then magnify my presence, perhaps while holdin' Spotted Dick's loose head for dramatic effect."

"Didn't go according to plan, eh?" Anne feigned sympathy.

"Thanks to that reckless orangutan who had the same fucking idea! Only without an ounce of my grace or talent!" Edward pointed his finger, cursing at Calico Jack who whimpered. "We collided while swinging. He swatted me off course before taking a swim. How the sharks didn't get him, I have no clue. Perhaps his stench deterred 'em."

Anne gazed at the flies that were swarming around Jack. "Yeh're probably right on that count."

Edward took another long drink of rum.

"As for me, I landed neck deep in angry pirates. The deck of the _Geoduck_ became swarmed with foe as the other ships caught up and began to board. I slashed my way across in a steel frenzy, trying to find Spotted Dick. And then I saw him. A pock-marked face you'd never want to meet on a dark night. Killin' anyone who dared raise steel against him with hardly a sweat. Like he was just stompin' roaches. He fought unorthodox, like no man I'd ever seen before or since."

"How so?"

"Well, instead of usin' his hands to handle his sword, he had some manner of bizarre contraption strapped to his bollocks. A sword was attached to it, and he thrust and shook his hips to swing and stab it about."

Anne blinked. Confused and skeptical.

"Aye, I could hardly believe it myself. All the while, the bastard was yellin' about respect for his doomcocke or somethin' about this lines. One of the Florentines charged up to him, with a bladed lute, and got skewered for his brashness. Nobody who tried to match blades with 'im proved Dick's better."

"So how'd you survive?" Anne yawned.

"I shot him."

"That's it?"

"Aye. Can't believe no one thought of it earlier. But I suppose that us men can't resist…" Edward pondered his choice of words. "Eh, never mind. Sod what I was about to say."

"What became of Captain Finn's treasure, then?"

Edward sighed, remembering the disappointment just as he had tasted it on that day.

"After everyone else had crawled off to lick their wounds, or was dead, we made our way below deck once we finished securing the ship. But the cargo holds… empty as a mother's womb after birth."

"Not even a poor penny, a single breadcrumb to be found?"

"No, lass, not even a single sliver of pittance."

"Where do you suppose his treasure went?"

"Hell if I know." Edward cursed. "Spotted Dick couldn't have built that fleet from nothing. But we scuttled every last spot and not a single coin to be found. Maybe he'd already squandered it all, perhaps by gambling and we found him too late. Maybe there never even was a treasure to begin with, just a crock of rumored shite that became more like truth every time Dick's story was told. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd banked his treasure somewhere mortal men would never reach."

Edward finished the last of his rum. Then he continued.

"I'd lost some fine crew members in the battle. And the discovery meant they died for nothing. A fool's fucking errand that only wasted our supplies and time. We decided to sail to San Juan to regain our bearings. It was the closest port to where we'd ended up following the fight, that we knew of. Along the way, we came across the last of our sorry and curious sights. A wretched vessel adrift, captained by some English cunt whose beard made his mouth look quite a bit like a cunt. His crew was nowhere to be seen. Mutinied, I suppose. Cuntbeard was nothin' more than a sad raver, at this point. He yelled at us, swore that he would see us bloody pirates hang from cages and the rope. That the British Empire would never be defeated by us, they would only experience alternative victories."

"What happened to Cuntbeard?"

"Beats me." Edward mused. "We didn't pick him up, or fire upon him. Wasn't in the right sort of mood, to suffer fools like him. We just let him be, a madman drifting under a hot sun in a blue sea. Whatever ending you make up for him is bound to be happier than whatever he really got. And so, eventually, here we are. Just me telling you the story of what happened. Drinking to try to forget it."

Anne passed him a fresh bottle.

"Well, if it 'elps. You didn't utterly bore this lass, if nothin' else." Anne waved as she rose from her seat and walked away.

When he'd returned to the Assassins to report his "success" Mary had given him her sympathies. "We don't always draw the lucky card, Kenway. We make due with what we get. Learn to live with it. And better ourselves." Ah Tabai had said something along the lines of "You did as well as I expect, which is to say not very well at all."

How many drinks had it been now? He'd lost count.

"What's the next course of action, Captain?" Adewale's voice stirred him from his contemplation. "Don't plan on just drinking and chatting up the women forever, do you now?" Edward looked up at his first mate.

"Back to more hunts for riches and glory, what else? Adventure in pursuit of mysteries. Even after this utter disaster we've recently experienced, I thirst to set sail once more. Spotted Dick left us wanting, but I have a feeling that this Observatory just might turn our luck around yet. Then we can finally start living. Christ, Ade, I guess I will never learn." Edward laughed and laughed and then uncorked his bottle for another drink.

* * *

"Here... here... b-beeee pyrates..." Thornbeard sobbed as the violent shaking ended, the remains of the _HMS Lenny_ ground to a halt upon the shore of the island. "...an' an' tygers tooo..."

Thornbeard hadn't been having the best of luck in recent months. He'd lorded over his crew like some Dark Ages tyrant. It seemed a good idea at first, to exert his authority and he'd assumed that this show of strength would quell their disrespect. The crew had begged to differ. In a turn of events that baffled Commodore Thornbeard, everyone had mutinied. Turned upon him! What had he done, besides whip them, steal their pay, and insult their mothers? They'd absconded with all the weaponry, boats, and the good food.

The mold, the rocks, the rats, and seawater that he'd subsisted on were driving him mad. Maybe this island was his last hope. Or his final resting place.

Commodore Thornbeard flopped onto the wet sand, spitting out mouthfuls as he struggled upwards.

Nothing before him but the jungle. Thornbeard staggered forward. He would not end like this. He was not some conscripted nobody! No, he was Commodore Alvin Prince Thornbeard, estimable agent of the Empire! He knew he had to be special, he had prince as his middle name after all. Thornbeard knew that this was not the end. He was return, and enact swift vengeance upon those damned pirates and deserters.

"Meow."

"What the?" Thornbeard whipped his head around. The jaguar starred at him, curious. It licked its paw, tail flicking like a painter's brush.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiite!" Thornbeard shrieked and before he knew it he was running. Without a clue as to where he was going. He didn't even realize that the jaguar had chosen not to pursue him, seeing as he looked like a rather unappetizing shite-bush with how unkempt his beard had become since the mutiny.

"Aaaaaaagh!" He suddenly went. It was pitch-black, where he'd ended up. He turned around, seeing a faint crack of light the way he'd come. The smart thing should've been to go back that way, but Thornbeard was still quite perturbed by his run in with the wildlife. So he resigned himself to stumbling around like a blind-man, hoping to find something that would get him to safer ground. A pity there was no Messiah waltzing around to grant sight to the blind on this island.

He stumbled, tripped, and rolled downwards like a runaway barrel. Smoooplfffh! That was the sound he made as he collided into a pile of something metallic.

"Huh?" In the distance, there was a golden glow. Something round. That could fit into the palm of a man's hand. He crawled towards it on his belly like the damned snake. Underneath him, what was underneath?

"What is this?" Thornbeard muttered as he grabbed the sphere. His belly growled. His eyes watered, and a brief moment, it reminded him of an apple. Of food. Where the hell was he, Thornbeard thought. What was all this? Who'd accumulated all this wealth, as through the sphere's light he saw scattered all around him immeasurable wealth. Gold upon gold, jewels upon jewels.

"Hahahahahahahahahaha! Take that you arrogant cunt Governor Rogers! All you fools who thought I'd never amount to anything! How foolish do you feel now, Daddy? Wish you hadn't abandoned daft Commodore Cuntbeard now have you?" Thornbeard cackled. He'd done it. He'd found the legendary treasure of Pyrate Richard Finn, the notorious Spotted Dick.

Now, how the hell was he supposed to get back to civilization? To reap the accolades and bounty that were so rightfully his? His stomach grumbled. Thornbeard supposed that he might as well get something to eat while he figured it out.

"Hmm... if it looks like an apple, maybe it is an apple." Thornbeard mused some deliriously, looking at the sphere in his hands. Maybe a new kind of cultivar that hadn't quite caught on yet in the Western world. Well, Commodore Thornbeard thought as he opened his jaw to take a bite out of this strange apple, what was the worst that could happen?


End file.
